Beginnings
by antinomian
Summary: This is a Zoë/Esme fic inspired by Amethyst Beloved's list of Triles prompts, minus the Triles. After the kiss, Zoë tries to forget the girl with strawberry lips and fall for Winston instead. Good luck with that, Zoë. One-shot, but more Zesme to come!


After Grace, I hadn't even thought about kissing another girl. Why would I? Grace was clearly a mistake. Just like Drew, she was a battle scar in my love life that I would never be proud to bear. One more person I thought was into me who wasn't. Back when I believed (more like hoped) that Grace Cardinal was gay, I felt like I could do anything. The phrase "love gives you wings" came to mind every time I was with her. She almost made me forget that loving a girl would mean I was gay and being gay could mean losing my very fundamentalist Catholic mother.

Grace didn't love me back, though. After we had sex, she told me that she'd rather have Zig. It was typical. Everyone who seemed to like me always liked someone else more. Zig ultimately wanted Maya, Drew ultimately preferred Bianca (or maybe that student council president, Clare), and Miles pushed me away for Maya the first time and Tristan the second. I was used to being second-best, but while Zig, Drew, and Miles had been insults to my ego, chinks in the armor my star power gave me, losing Grace made me feel like my heart was going to throw up. That gross description would never have made sense to me before I experienced it, but it definitely made sense to me now.

I didn't feel weird around Zig or Miles anymore. Miles and I were even friends. It seemed that when it came to girls, I took rejection a lot worse than I did with boys. Maybe it was because I just wasn't meant to be with girls. I wasn't really gay.

On New Year's Eve, I made a resolution to get my heterosexual reputation back on track. This was what led me to confront Grace on the first day back from break. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm not going to tell anyone about what we did."

"Okay," Grace said noncommittally.

"I thought you'd be glad," I said, feeling almost offended. "Heaven forbid anyone think you're a lesbian, right?"

Grace looked at me with her 'I can't believe what a bitch you're being' expression that I hadn't seen for at least a semester. "I'm not ashamed of what we did," she said.

"Wow," I said with a frown. "That's news to me."

"Look, all I said was that I'm not gay. I never said I hated you or that I regretted our time together. You were the one who assumed all that."

At this point, I could have forgiven her for leading me on and resumed my friendship with one of the best friends I had ever had. Instead, I chose to stay angry and be on my way. "Well maybe I _am_ ashamed of it," I said. "Maybe I prefer my hookups to be a little higher on the social ladder than you."

It was a bitchy, grade-ten thing for me to say, but I knew it would sting enough to get Grace to leave.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Grace said, "because in spite of everything, I actually kind of miss hanging out with you."

My heart sank at those words, and then it closed. I threw myself back into the infamous Zoë Rivas diva personality that everyone either loved or hated (but most people hated), and I tried out for some stupid musical number Winston Chu was hosting. Of course, the number involved kissing, and I didn't seriously attempt to kiss him even though I knew Winston was once again casting himself a girlfriend instead of a costar.

Kiss or no kiss, I told myself that surely my acting skills outdid those of Esme Song, that random girl Miles used to date while he was destroying himself on drugs. I was shocked when I found out I was wrong. So shocked that I confronted her about it. I needed to know how she beat me.

I wanted her to tell me that she took some acting classes over the summer or that she had been in commercials since she was three. I wanted her to give me a real, professional reason why she was chosen over me. Instead, she told me my problem was the kissing. I didn't kiss boys the way a straight girl would, and that was why I screwed everything up. Before I could protest, she kissed me straight on the lips. My entire body tingled. Her lips felt soft and eager, much more eager than Grace's. Although I didn't know (or really like) this girl, I felt more wanted, more at ease than I ever had with the girl I once said "I love you" to.

With Grace, I was the one who stole the kiss. Now, Esme was stealing a kiss from me. For a second, as I pulled away from her, my heart sent a thousand ideas racing through my brain. Esme and I should go get coffee sometime. No, no, not coffee. Lola's Cantina. No, no, not Lola's Cantina. We should just go straight to the slumber party and get to the important part first so there would be no heartache if I was rejected again. Moments later, I realized the whole class was staring at us, and I was showing people exactly what I didn't want to show them.

It was then that I realized I didn't have to like Esme. I didn't have to like girls at all. If Grace got to take the easy way out and just like boys, then why didn't I?

That was how Winston Chu became my boyfriend. I gained a sick satisfaction from stealing Esme's part and hoped that it would make her hate me just like Grace did. Making girls hate me was a specialty of mine, so I figured it would be no problem.

It didn't work. Esme waited a few days to confront me, but when she did, I was surprised that it had nothing to do with the musical.

"Is that the kind of girl you are?" Esme asked me one day as I was trying to find my Algebra 2 book in my locker. "You just kiss me and then never talk to me again?" She fake pouted. "That just really hurts me, Zoë."

"In case you've forgotten, you kissed me," I said.

She frowned. "I thought you wanted me to."

"Well, you thought right," I said. "You gave me just what I needed to win Winston's heart. Thank you, Esme."

Esme leaned closer to whisper in my ear. "But are his lips as soft as mine? Do they taste like strawberries?"

My heart sank again as she walked away. No. They tasted like Pepsi and toothpaste, and every time I tasted them, I found myself replacing them in my mind with Esme's strawberry lips and wishing I could taste them again. Every time Winston and I made out or held hands, I wondered how much longer this could last.


End file.
